


Sixteen, Going on Seventeen

by threewalls



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Bhujerba, Dark, Ensemble Cast, F/M, Lies of Omission, Mid-Game, Mistaken Identity, Seduction, Solidor!Sexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-15
Updated: 2007-07-15
Packaged: 2017-10-15 11:04:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/160196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threewalls/pseuds/threewalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She thought he was fifteen.</p><p>Spoilers to Phon Coast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sixteen, Going on Seventeen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mariagonerlj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariagonerlj/gifts).



The moon is high in the sky as they walk slowly as a group through the empty corridors of the marquis' residence. Balthier found their second audience with the marquis to end far more satisfactorily than the first. He's avoided the proverbial third incarceration in so many weeks; there's a chance of being paid; and he cannot deny that he's looking forward to once again being master of his own ship.

The room that they are taken to has food laid out, as requested: eight different kinds of spicy stew in small metal bowls laid over a bed of fire stones, a pile of Bhujerban savoury griddlecakes and a modest mountain of fresh, whole fruit. Just the sort of thing Balthier would serve to liberated prisoners himself, particularly ones that hadn't eaten since the previous evening, coincidently in a room very similar to this.

After offering pleasantries about the food, their rebe guide pronounces that a separate bathing chamber is also available for their use, but only the one. The princess shakes off some of her reverie to demand the first turn; ever the gentleman, Balthier does not protest. She tells Basch to stay, and so he does, ears perked by the door. Not too bad a idea, considering the marquis' proven fickle nature. Regardless, Balthier is glad that it's not him.

Vaan and Penelo have already ransacked the refreshments, and moved closer to the room's one window, looking out on the marquis' gardens. Vaan is telling her all about his Bhujerban adventures-- from running around town pretending to be a man twice his age, and being believed, to his amazing discoveries of moogle or magicite craftsmanship unknown in Dalmasca. There's a nearby touchstone lamp that he taps on and off, on and off, _ad infinitem_.

"I've been here before, too, with Lord Larsa," she says.

It's an interjection that doesn't slow her friend's fast-flowing narrative, only diverts him back to their adventure in Lhusu. Vaan doesn't apparently notice the way her eyes have shifted up and right, or the shy smile growing to match the blush already blossomed over her round cheeks.

So, she's not Vaan's girl, after all.

Balthier looks at Fran, who holds his gaze impassive. He glances at the girl, and then back to his partner, and finally gives a reluctant, very shallow nod of his head. Fran steps away to stand between the two children, interrupting to suggest Vaan fill a plate for their stalwart guard captain. Vaan requires very little prompting, and Fran follows him.

Balthier waits until there's loud conversation by the door. He still refuses to countenance that any of this affair is his responsibility, but Rabanastre is a very different place from Archades.

"I'm not sure how much Lord Larsa told you about himself."

Penelo half-turns, just enough to peek coyly over her shoulder, and moves to one side to make space for Balthier by the window.

"I know he's the son of the emperor, and that he's the consul's brother, if that's what you mean. Larsa told me himself."

"Oh, friendly, was he? Chatty?"

"He was nice." From the frown beginning to moue on her lips, she's realised that Balthier hasn't approached her to flirt, but she doesn't know why. "He saved me from a judge, and let me stay here, with him. I don't know anyone in Bhujerba."

Balthier hates conversations like this, hates them more when he's the one having them.

"And amongst his generosity, did he happen to tell you that he's only twelve years of age?"

"No. That's--" and now, she turns full towards him, fists straight down at her sides. "So, he's kind of short. That's not funny!"

"In 694, they had parades through the streets of Archades in celebration of his birth. It was hard to miss."

"But he-- we-- that isn't possible," she says, but her frown has gone slack and her eyes have become wider than they were, distant and blank.

"We stayed up late, just talking-- he listened about the bangaa, in the mines, held my hand. They talked about eating me, if Balthier didn't..."

Balthier tries to catch his partner's attention, without drawing any to himself or the girl-- Penelo is clearly no longer talking to him, and he is certain that what comes next isn't something he wants to hear.

"... he gave me some wine... for my nerves, he said." Penelo has wrapped her thin arms around herself, rubbing against a cold that never comes to the sky continent. "And then, he sat down on the bed next to me while I was drinking it, and then he was _kissing_ me, and we, he-- oh, gods, I--"

The whole room goes dark in an instant. Vaan calls out: "Hey, cool. There's a stone over here that does all the lights!"

The tear-trails down Penelo's cheeks glitter in the moonlight, on her pale reflection in the window glass, before the lamps return.

Balthier hates being right about this, for knowing exactly what an Archadian boy could make of her gratitude, her dancer's hips. Even by those standards, twelve was precocious, but he was a Solidor: they poisoned everyone they touched.

He offers back his handkerchief; Penelo blows her nose, wipes her cheeks, and re-folds her right arm tightly over the left.

"He said I was the prettiest girl he ever saw," she whispers to her boots. "I thought he was fifteen."

Balthier nods, discretion being the better part of valour and, regardless, what does one say? Sweet words are hardly what she needs, nor, indeed, are any of the other ways he knows how to bring a smile to a woman's face.

Again, Balthier tries for Fran's eye, and this time, succeeds. They switch positions to his great relief. Let this problem be soothed by a woman's touch, he hopes, sincerely, because they have little other option.

Basch's expression may be neutral, but Balthier has experience reading Fran; an explanation will keep, though not indefinitely. The boy is yet oblivious, facing the door, but Balthier can already feel the headache yet to come, convincing Vaan that Balthier himself was not the cause of his dear friend's tears while keeping discreetly mum concerning what in actuality was.

"The princess has been gone for quite a while," Balthier says, his own expression carefully considered and his body positioned to block Vaan's line of sight to the women. As a plan, this lacks a certain finesse, but it had worked before. "Should we send someone to check that she hasn't drowned?"

**Author's Note:**

> This was written inspired by meta discussion I'd had with mariagoner. You may wish to read the comments under the story's [original post.](http://threewalls.livejournal.com/229282.html)


End file.
